


Crazy Stupid

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:28:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21790822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Verstael just wants a Dominant who makes him forget his own name, is that really so much to ask for?
Relationships: Verstael Besithia/Ardyn Izunia
Comments: 6
Kudos: 65





	Crazy Stupid

Verstael has made quite a splash in the scientific world since he finished his college tuition at fifteen. He loves his work, safe to say, but he’s twenty-four and sometimes he just wants a hard, raw, fuck.

Verstael has tried a couple of websites for kinksters but the ‘Dominants’, for want of a better word, are always disappointing. Verstael can usually only stomach a few messages before he blocks them. They’re sleazy, rude, entitled… Verstael wants sex, sure, but if his _‘IQ is too low_ ’ radar starts beeping he is immediately turned off from the encounter.

Tonight Verstael is trying a different approach.

Tonight Verstael is at a kink club in downtown Gralea. It’s fairly exclusive and the resources are top notch. They have Roman bath house. It costs a pretty penny to join but Verstael is hoping the cost of entry has deterred posers who just want ‘weird’ sex.

So far…?

No luck.

Verstael sighs, sips his drink, and watches the guy in the latex gas mask tie his female submissive to the Saint Andrew’s cross with intricate rope work. The live entertainment is remarkable, so many scenes unfolding, but none of it scratches his particular itch.

Verstael catches sight of a newcomer arriving up the stairs. He’s handsome, fractionally older but still comfortably within Verstael’s age bracket, and his coloring suggests he’s foreign. Verstael can’t be sure but that well kept stubble does things to his brain on impact. Grabbing a drink from the bar the newcomer makes a round greeting what must be familiar faces in the club. Verstael glances, a bubble of interest, but he doesn’t approach. He’s feeling a little soured. Is he the problem? Is he just a bitch? An awful submissive?

The newcomer closes the gap lazily, approaching Verstael’s seating, and drink in hand supposes;

“May I?”

“Sure,” Verstael permits, shuffling over. What is that accent? He doesn’t immediately recognize it.

Their knees touch and shifting his drink to his other hand the newcomer offers his palm.

“Ardyn,” he greets.

Lucian. That’s a Lucian accent. Fuck what’s a Lucian doing all the way out here?

“Verstael,” he replies with a firm shake.

“I don’t recognize your face, Verstael?”

“Just joined. Hoping to find some playmates.”

“Oh?” Ardyn perks. “Any luck?”

“Not exactly,” he admits. “This establishment is very nice but I’m starting to think I’m the problem in this equation.”

“What are you looking for?” Ardyn relaxes back, happy to chat judging by his welcoming body language.

“A dominant, ideally.” Verstael answers with a sigh.

“Protocol or casual?”

“I don’t mind a great deal,” Verstael tries to explain, “I work hard. I just want a few hours a week where I forget my name. I don’t mind the specifics.”

“Hmm…” Ardyn tuts. “You may be the problem, my friend. Most dominants achieve their spells chasing parameters. If you don’t know your parameters the spell is harder to achieve.”

“I used to be simpler,” Verstael promises with a tired chuckle.

“It’s like daemon summoning.” Ardyn grins conspiratorially. “First, you decide upon the daemon you wish to summon. Then you work backwards to assemble the materials. What do you want to feel?”

“I want to be overwhelmed,” Verstael tries to piece together.

“Yes, but what inspires that vulnerability? What do you need?’

“I…” Verstael snorts. “I have five PhDs. I want someone to make my feel _stupid_.”

Ardyn perks, seemingly intrigued.

“I see,” he hums. “What do you specialize in exactly? At work that is.”

“Biology, chemistry, medical software…” Verstael shrugs.

“Very clever,” Ardyn clinks their drinks together. “Would you perhaps be interested in trying a scene?”

Verstael chews the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

His idiot radar isn’t beeping yet.

“I think so,” he concedes. “What did you have in mind?”

“Some impact play, start simple.” Ardyn introduces the idea. “Do you have any hard limits?”

“Scat, watersports, feet. Condoms, no fluids unless there’s an arrangement.”

“Civil, reasonable.” Ardyn consents thoughtfully, clearly strategizing. “Traffic light system acceptable?”

“Sure,” Verstael nods.

“How about we move to one of the rooms?”

Verstael feels, in a strange way, secure. Ardyn’s asking all the right questions. He seems purposeful. He inspires confidence. Verstael feels like this guy knows what he’s doing and that’s strides above the feeling most dominants induce in him. It’s kind of instinctual. That said right now his biggest concern is a lack of chemistry. Ardyn is handsome but what if he’s not Verstael’s preferred style of erotic?

Well, nothing ventured nothing gained, right?

Ardyn moves them to a smaller playroom. It has fairly basic equipment on option but Ardyn seems comfortable it will suffice for what he has in mind.

Ardyn takes a seat in one of the more padded chairs, looks like one of those old nobles in portraits in the national gallery; like he owns the place. Still it’s a quiet cockiness. Ardyn reaches for him and grasping his hips pulls him close to stand before him.

“You’re very lovely,” he remarks, “and reportedly so clever. Hmm?”

Verstael thinks he should agree but he’s distracted by those surprisingly calloused fingers unbuckling his pants. They move over him so curtly. It’s erotic if only because it’s so… possessive? Verstael isn’t sure. He feels like an object somehow.

Ardyn pulls down his slacks and underwear.

“Come here,” Ardyn directs. He leaves nothing to chance. Verstael can tell what he wants but Ardyn poses him as if Verstael can’t possibly manage the command himself without supervision. Sprawled over the Lucian’s lap he’s once again momentarily fascinated by those calloused fingers smoothing over the curve of his ass. “Yes, I think you’ll be a lot of fun. Well, provided you’re not another dumb blonde of course.”

Verstael snorts.

Ardyn’s hand cracks against his ass. Hard and sudden.

Verstael yelps.

“Now, now, no fussing.” Ardyn tuts. “You’re clever, I know, but we’ll start simple. Surely a man of your intellect can recount the three Dashwood sisters?"

Verstael frowns, lips parting. “Who?” He fumbles, confused.

 _Crack_.

“Classic literature, Verstael. Come now, it’s basic.” Ardyn chides, palm soothing the tingling skin he just smacked.

Verstael’s mind lurches. _Classical literature?_ That’s—

“I don’t know,” he admits.

Ardyn strokes the edge where pert ass meets thigh.

“You’re so educated and you have no appreciation for culture?” Ardyn snorts. “Don’t be absurd. You can’t escape culture. If you’ve been paying any attention you should be able to answer a few basic questions. I know high schoolers who at least know Austen.”

“Well…” Verstael feels his face heat just a fraction. That makes it sound so condescendingly simple. Logically it’s not unreasonable but—

“Here, let’s try another.” Ardyn permits. “Who wrote _Lord of the Flies?_ ”

Verstael feels another mortified lurch as he comprehends that he, the know it all, has no fucking clue.

“Three, two…”

“I don’t know,” Verstael unwillingly admits.

 _Crack_.

A gasp this time. He was expecting that one but Ardyn upped the intensity the tiniest bit, hitting a previously unattended patch of skin.

Great, now his whole ass is tingling.

Ardyn sighs, audibly somewhere between frustrated and disappointed.

“Maybe you are a dumb blonde,” he grunts.

“I am not—!”

 _Crack_.

Verstael groans, fingers curling.

“Well then, prove it.” Ardyn invites.

“Fine,” Verstael huffs, feeling his own frustration.

“ _The Modern Prometheus_ , it’s a subtitle to a foundational text in science fiction,” Ardyn explains dutifully, like he’s laying it out to a child. “What’s the novel called?”

“I…” Verstael rakes his mind, bubbling with mortification. Nothing springs in to save him.

“Three…” Ardyn sighs.

Verstael takes a deep breath, heart sputtering at the impending impact.

“Two…”

“ _D-Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde?_ ” Verstael scrambles, grasping at straws.

 _Crack_.

Verstael yelps, straining into a moan. He’s embarrassed and he’s tingling and somehow in all the mortification he finds himself feeling very exposed. It’s starting to build, that feeling…

“ _Frankenstein_ ,” Ardyn corrects.

“Fuck,” Verstael hisses. So close.

“God, it’s almost cute,” Ardyn chuckles. “You’ve genuinely got no idea, do you?”

“It’s literature,” Verstael huffs, insisting; “I know plenty about plenty of other things.”

“Alright,” Ardyn permits. “Ifrit was laid asunder at which volcano in Lucius?”

“That’s not fair!” Verstael snaps, whining desperately.

“It’s world history, religion even.” Ardyn chides. “Are you telling me you’re such a ditz you don’t even know _that?_ ”

“I didn’t say—”

“Then answer the question,” Ardyn prompts, squeezing his ass.

“I…” Verstael bites his lip, swearing. “It’s…”

“What on Eos were you doing at high school?” Ardyn laughs. “Seems like you spent more time sucking cock than actually paying attention.”

Verstael moans, there is it. That razor sharp note of arousal slicing through him. Fuck. He feels like an idiot. It shouldn’t make him feel so wonderfully vulnerable and helpless.

“Such a _dumb blonde_ ,” Ardyn accentuates, bouncing Verstael on his knee, hand smoothing down the back of his naked thigh.

“I’m not…” Verstael insists, fingers white knuckled, aching.

“I should just take pity on you,” Ardyn sighs. “We’re obviously not getting anywhere with this razor intellect of yours. Should I just let you rut against me, darling? At least then you’d sound pretty. You are a slut, aren’t you?”

“I am not a slut.” Verstael whines.

“Well so far all you seem good for is this tight ass,” Ardyn chides, slapping it again. “Why don’t you just get down between my knees and stroke my cock off? See if you’re at least dexterous. You can manage that, can’t you?”

“That’s not—”

“Alright, alright,” Ardyn sighs as if Verstael is being unreasonably difficult. “One more question but if you can’t answer it you’re going to make yourself useful. Agreed?”

“Agreed,” Verstael accepts breathlessly.

“Where did the people of Solheim pay tribute to their dead?”

Verstael groans, his mind is completely blank. He’s not convinced he’s ever known the answer to that question.

“You have no clue, do you?” Ardyn snorts.

“No…” Verstael admits defeatedly.

“I thought not,” Ardyn tuts, fingers running between his cheeks against his hole. “Knees then. Dumb blondes are only good for cock.”

Verstael moans, flushed and embarrassed, but let’s Ardyn help him onto his knees between the Dominant’s spread thighs.

Ardyn unbuckles his pants and Verstael is at once insulted and delighted Ardyn is hard. He’s got a handsome cock; thick, tall, very much like him. Verstael hates how much he loves it on sight. He hates likewise how hot he is between his naked thighs.

“Come on slut, come here,” Ardyn directs like he’s a child, pulling his hand around his shaft. “Come on, show me you know how to do _something_.”

Groaning Verstael swirls his fingers around the leaking head and starts to pump firmly.

“That’s it,” Ardyn lounges back, looking so infuriatingly smug. “Are you hard, darling?”

“No,” Verstael huffs unconvincingly.

“It’s so cute you think I believe you,” Ardyn snorts. “Go on, touch yourself. I’ll let you.”

Verstael hates how hard he moans. Free hand slipping in-between his legs. He’s so hard. He can barely focus. Ardyn’s hand wraps over the fingers around the Dominant’s cock and encourages him not to stop. Verstael is furious with how much he wants to put this bastard’s cock in his mouth. He wants to wrap his lips around that bulbous head. It’s infuriating.

“Do you want me to cum on your face?” Ardyn supposes.

Verstael isn’t permitted to answer.

“You don’t know what you want.” Ardyn dismisses. “It’ll be good for you. Paint those cheeks, shall I?”

Verstael makes the most aroused, enraged, sound.

Ardyn seems to love his desperate frustration.

“Cum,” Ardyn orders.

“I’m not—”

“Shh, no one cares,” Ardyn pats his cheek condescendingly. “ _Cum._ ” 

Verstael can’t help it. He tries to, he absolutely does, but he—

“O-oh fuc—”

Verstael moans, Ardyn’s hand still working his one the Dominant’s cock.

Ardyn makes such a sound when he comes.

Verstael can feel ropes of cum on his face, between his thighs, hot and slick and—“ _Fuuuck_ …”

Verstael slumps forward, face buried in Ardyn’s knee, and they both pant for a moment. Lingering in the afterglow.

Ardyn’s hand runs through his hair fondly, gently.

“Better?” He supposes.

“Ugh…” Verstael eases. “You’re the _worst_ …”

“You liked it then?” Ardyn chuckles.

“I haven’t cum that hard in forever,” Verstael is loath to admit. “I needed that.”

“You’re so proud.” Ardyn snorts.

“Thank you,” Verstael sighs, managing to lift his head. “I’m mortified but… you were perfect. I have no complaints.”

“Good,” Ardyn slouches forward, arm easing around Verstael’s shoulders. “Would you like to exchange numbers then? I could certainly do that again sometime.”

“Sounds amazing.” Verstael admits.


End file.
